A Phone Call Away & Listen
by ShilohWhittier
Summary: A routine case goes awry when a member of the team becomes quickly emotionally attached to a victim. The team struggles to rescue the missing woman, and they work against the clock as her situation becomes even more dire. Will they be able to rescue her in time? PART TWO- "Listen" NOW AVAILABLE HERE
1. Chapter 1

**_A/N: _It's been ages since I've written a fanfiction, but I had a really good idea for one! Anyways, here's the first chapter, hope you guys enjoy it, review if you like it, review if you hate it! I don't care, just review! 3 3 3 - Shiloh**

_Bravery is the capacity to perform properly even when scared half to death._  
_-Omar N. Bradley _

The day before her birthday, she was taken.

She turned 22 in a dungeon.

The room she was kept in was next to empty. Made of concrete walls with just a trapdoor in the ceiling. There was cot on the floor, dirty and stained. There was a bucket in the corner, and three huge jugs filled with water. In the early morning hours someone dropped a loaf of bread in the trap door.

The only other thing was a phone that didn't work. An old phone, with push-button dialing, from the nineties or something.

She tried it.

She tried it lots.

She screamed, and cried, and begged into the receiver, dialed every number she could think of, smashed the phone on and off, un-plugged it and re-plugged it in desperation. She hated that phone. She hated it for not working.

She doesn't know how she got there

_The last thing I could remember was walking out of my apartment, and turning down the alley way I went down as a shortcut to get the the diner._

_That was one comfort. Someone had been expecting me, Hal and Giovanna, maybe Joyce or Katherine. Dave? Tyler? They would know I was missing._

_Wouldn't they?_

_Yes, yes of course they would._

_I was numb now. I couldn't keep track of time. I hated that, I always wanted to know what time it was. Always. But my favorite watch was off my wrist, a small, thin, golden bracelet was there instead. I don't know how it got there._

_I didn't like knowing._

She was curled up on the cot, daydreaming about my favorite place in the world. Luis Camp, in the Rockies of Colorado. She just wanted the cool breeze, the smell of pine trees, the babbling of San Llamos Creek.

She wanted that place.

Suddenly, a noise.

She jumped terribly, sitting up straight.

The phone.

It was ringing.

* * *

_4 hours earlier_

"Our victim's name is Cassidy Tyler, she's 22 and a college student at Colorado University. She was reported missing yesterday by her boss, Hal Ketchum, at a local coffee shop. Our team has been called in because they believe the unsub is the person responsible for a series of murders in the Grand Junction Colorado Area. Three girls in the past month, all dark haired, blue eyed, 20-something women. It seems their appearances are the only things connecting them, they have extreme different careers, education and financial levels." Penelope Garcia read quickly from her iPad, scrolling through different images on the TV. "The MO is the same every time, the victim is kept alive for 2 days, tortured for another, and murdered by means of blunt force trauma."

"Here's where things get freaky, the victim's bag was found in an alleyway, presumably where she was taken, and the only thing left inside the bag was a piece of paper with a phone number written on it. It's currently disconnected."

"Have you traced it?" Hotchner asked

"I tried, but no luck. It's an old phone, an old system. Whoever is doing this is a smart cookie." Garcia replied.

"Alright, wheels up in thirty, we've got just a couple of days before there's another victim. Let's stop him before we get there."

* * *

She scrambled towards the phone and picked it up, and nearly screamed a raspy "hello?"

_"Cassidy? Cassidy Tyler?_" a deep voice said on the other end. She was hesitant, not sure if she should tell the truth. What if this was her captor?

She shook the thought away.

"Yes, that's me." Tears sprung in her clear blue eyes. "Help, please, can you help me?"

"My name is Dr. Spencer Reid, I'm with the FBI." the voice breathed, almost sounding relieved. "We're going to help you."

"


	2. Chapter 2

"This is unprecedented, we've been calling that number nonstop since we found the bag." The head detective, Detective Mark Williams, said in disbelief. He looked through the glass, where Spencer and JJ had Cassidy on speaker-phone.

"Sometimes, with cases like these, the un-sub will give the authorities some way of advantage, so to pursue a game with the police." Rossi said.

"Right now, though, it sounds like we have the upperhand, for the time being. If we question her correctly, and she is observant enough. But we have to be careful." Hotchner replied.

* * *

_"Can you tell me everything about the room you're in?" _Spencer said quickly.

Cassidy looked around. She had already studied these walls to a point of exhaustion. It was all she could do, anyways.

"Yeah, um, it's approximately 6 feet wide and 8 feet long, but that's my best guess, really."

_"And what's it made of?" _He asked.

"Concrete, I think its cinderblocks, mostly. Well one wall is just solid concrete, the rest is cinderblock, three walls of cinderblock."

_"Do you remember anything about how you got there?"_

She was silent for a long while, her eyes shut in concentration, trying to remember something. After a full minute, Spencer spoke up again. _"Cassidy?"_

"I don't. I'm sorry." She whispered.

"_That's ok, it's ok." _He sighed, thinking deeply, looking at the image of Cassidy on the screen. There was something about this girl's face that looked so startlingly familiar, so strikingly soft and kind. He shook his head. His job was to concentrate, not get distracted by stupid thoughts.

_"Do you remember anything strange the past few days before you were abducted?" _

"Not reall- wait, yes!" she nearly shouted the word. She nervously glanced at the trap door above her, and then whispered. "Yes, I had flowers delivered to me at my house, and notes had been appearing in different places I went often. Like at work, a couple of days ago I had two notes show up on tip trays, and then a third shoved under my door when I got home."

_"What did the notes say?" _

"They were weird, pieces of song lyrics, cheesy 80's love ballads, and they didn't make a lot of sense. Almost like they were meant to be riddles. Oh, and the capitalization was randomized, like Emily Dickinson style."

_"Are the notes still at your condo?" _Spencer asked.

"Yes, they're in a drawer in my kitchen, next to my sink. I was going to sit down and try to figure it out. I thought maybe it was this guy from one of my classes, he'd always been really sweet towards me, but there was something off about him."

_"What's his name?"_

"Jeff Klaine. He's a junior."

_"Okay, can you hold on for a second, Cassidy?"_

Spencer looked up at JJ, who had written all this stuff down. "I'll get Garcia on the flower delivery, and then have Morgan and Hotch pick up Klaine. He might be a good lead. I'll go to the condo." She said, pounding stuff into her phone. "We also need to look for witnesses, so I'll talk to Cassidy's neighbors."

"Have Hotch and Morgan also call in her coworkers, they might be of some help." Spencer said. JJ raised her eyebrows and smiled.

"Looks like you're taking charge on this one, then, Spence?"

"You heard Hotchner, he wanted me to be the main communicator once I got Cassidy on th-" he said in defense.

JJ put her hands up in surrender. "I just wanted to say you're handling this well. I'm proud of you Spencer." She gave him an encouraging smile, and was out the door.

* * *

"This is Athena, Greek Goddess of Wisdom, what is your question mortal?" Garcia quipped into the receiver.

"Garcia, I need background information on a junior at Colorado State University named Jeff Klaine, and I also need you to track a recent flower delivery sent to our victim at her home."

"On it like a pregnant woman is on pickles." Garcia said, JJ could hear her the vicious typing of the technical analyst as she hung up. As JJ gave the low-down to the rest of the team, Spencer continued talking to Cassidy.

* * *

Cassidy was so thankful for the sound of Spencer's steady, calm voice on the other end. But she still had questions.

"Spencer?" she said tentatively into the phone. He had insisted she not call him Doctor after she had done so upwards of a dozen times in a few minutes.

_"Yeah, I'm here." _He said a moment later.

"What's going to happen to me?" she whispered. He could hear the fear in her voice, the choked back tears. He didn't like picking up on that.

_"You don't have to think about that, we're going to try and figure it out before anything does happen. We've done this hundreds, if not thousands, of times."_

She closed her eyes tight, desperately grasping the phone receiver. She tried to believe him. She really did.


	3. Chapter 3

_**A/N: Hi guys (: I appreciate the few followers and responses I've gotten for this story...thank you so much for the support. Please please please review! Hope you enjoy the chapter! I tried to play around with point of view a little bit, and it's a little different...let me know what you think and any constructive criticism is appreciated! **_

Spencer paged through the reports from the last three crime scenes. The details of what the man had done to his victims were just as gruesome as cases like these were. Significant torture sustained on each victim, the injuries implicated a possibility of a medical fantasy, most of the injuries were from surgical tools, some of the deeper cuts were stitched up. Repeated sexual abuse. Burns and cauterizing on some of the other wounds.

He wasn't really sure he liked having so much contact with a woman who very well might fall victim to these actions very soon.

It wasn't often that Dr. Reid communicated with the victims, not after the crimes, and hardly ever during or before. There was a heavy emotional burden placed on his shoulders he wasn't very comfortable with; it was skewing his perceptions of the crime scenes. Suddenly, the mangled, deceased victims had the face of Cassidy, and he dropped the folder on the table, pushing it away from him.

"What did you see when the trap door was opened?" he asked the phone.

"Not a lot. It happened so quickly." she replied.

"What was the light like? Was it outside, natural light, or did it look like artificial, fluorescent or lightbulb?"

"It was natural light, sunlight. And it smelled like hay. My grandparents have horses." he heard the smile in her voice, and his heart sunk. He glanced at the clock. She didn't have long. They had to hurry."

Garcia had spent most of the time since they'd gotten Cassidy on the phone trying to trace the call, but somehow the unsub had scrambled the signal, and Cassidy bounced all over the map every second. Garcia was working on tracing the pattern of the relocated phone signals, hoping they would make some sort of central point, but it was a long shot.

Meanwhile, Morgan and Hotch had been questioning Jeff Klaine, and it seemed like a dead-end. There wasn't a pattern of aquaintance-abduction so far, and they didn't think they were going to find one. It was frustrating. Something had to change.

Spencer couldn't stop looking at Cassidy's face. How did she look so familiar?

"Hey, Cassidy, have you lived in Colorado your entire life?"

"Um no, I moved here right after I turned 16. I grew up in Las Vegas."

He sat up quickly, almost knocking over his coffee mug.

"Where did you live?" he said in utter bewilderment.

"Um," she sounded a little embarrassed, and stuttered slightly. "In a hotel on the strip. I know, it's cheesy. My mom has been a performer her entire life. She retired when she turned 45, and mostly sings in clubs free lance when she can here."

Spencer leaned back, shaking his head. Hundreds of thousands of people lived in Las Vegas, it was just a coincidence.

"Why are you asking?" she said.

Now it was Spencer's turn to be embarrassed. She was a few years younger than him anyways.

"Well, you just looked really familiar, and I grew up in Vegas too, so..." he trailed off, for the first time in a long time being at a loss for words.

"Hmm. Well, how old are you?"

"I'm 25."

"So we probably didn't cross each other in high school."

He laughed, but didn't admit he had graduated at age 12.

"And I didn't leave the Strip too much, actually, now that I think about it. Um...hmm, wait..." she stopped "Nevermind." she said quickly.

"No, what?" his curiosity perked suddenly. He had a feeling, a really weird one.

"Well, I sometimes visited this place. Like a hospital. A mental one." she sounded strained. He could tell by her vocal patterns it wasn't something she talked about a lot.

"Bennington Sanitarium." he said.

There was a long pause.

"Yeah. My dad's there, and I'd visit him sometimes." she said quietly.

Spencer ran his hands through his hair, and then balanced his head on his palms.

"My mom's there too." he whispered.

* * *

"Spencer?" Cassidy whispered suddenly, her voice terrified and high pitched. Fear flowed from her, Spencer could sense it. There were noises from behind the trapdoor, she could hear walking. The slamming of a car door. Movement above her. "Oh my god, oh my god." she whispered. She crouched next to the cot, terror gripping her stomach like a vice. She resisted the urge to vomit, and was extremely lightheaded - frozen in place.

"Cassidy, listen to me," his mind raced for some helpful statistics, something that might save her. "the most sensetive points on the human body are the eyes, the groin, the instep. Use your elbows if you can."

"I can't, I can't." she said. Tears dripped down her face. "What's going to happen to me? Is he going to kill me?"

"Cassidy, it's going to be okay...just, stay calm." He said, but could hardly stay calm himself.

The trapdoor flew open, and Cassidy gasped. "I'm right here, Cassidy, remember to focus on me, okay?" he said in desperation.

* * *

JJ walked into the room with him again, and her blue eyes filled with concern as she read the terror on Spencer's face. He pressed the phone between his ear and shoulder and scribbled a note on the yellow pad nearby, and held it up for JJ to read.

_He's with her_

The man descended the ladder against the wall, slowly. Cassidy could hardly move. He wore green medical scrubs, and when he turned on her, she could see they were stained with blood.

"Help me, Spencer...Spencer plea-" Her whisper was cut off by a sudden scream.

Another voice came over the receiver. "Looks like someone is trying to find this little piece of meat."

Spencer grimaced.

"I wish you luck, but she's not going to make it. But you know what sounds fun?" the voice taunted "I want you to listen in. She looks like a screamer."

* * *

The man grabbed her by the hair. Huge and burly, he easily over-powered her, and within moments had her tied to the cot. Cassidy begged with him, pleaded. He placed his black doctor's bag on the floor next to the cot, and began pulling out his tools.

* * *

"Cmon, help me, Cassidy, give me something, you can do it." Spencer whispered, mainly to himself. Almost instantly, she responded, screaming towards the phone - as though she had heard him, but he knew she hadn't.

"Spencer! Spencer! Room 402, just like the man in 402!"

Then there was the sound of a hard slap. "Behave or I'll hang up on him."

All Spencer could hear after that was Cassidy's screaming.


	4. Chapter 4

_**A/N: wow I am so excited! Writing this story is proving to be a total blasty-blast. Enjoy the next chapter, my precious little angels.**_

"402, 402." Spencer whispered, and closed his eyes_._

_ White walls, so startlingly white. Fake flowers on the tables in the hallways, the smell of antiseptic. Hushed talking from different rooms. Pastel colored scrub wearing nurses wheeling around patients. Around that corner, up the elevator. Floor 3? No, 4. Down the hall just two doors. In his mind, Spencer pushed the door open. Inside a man who looked hauntingly depressed. His mother called him Mr. Jason in her letters._

_The birthmark._

Portwine, right across his left eye, taking up half his face.

That was it.

Spencer's eyes shot open.

"I've got it, I've got it." he retrieved his cellphone from his pocket, setting down the office phone on the table-top. "Garcia."

"Ah, boy wonder, my love, how can I be of assistance?" Penelope responded quickly.

"I need you to cross reference people in the medical field with people who have a large facial birthmark."

"Ah, specifics, love them." he heard the snaps of the keys on the other end. "Alright, just a few response, one is female and the other is an elderly man, so I'm ruling them out. Numero tres is a man named Carl Boddingston, 43, with an unfortunate birthmark over his right cheek, and down his neck. He works as a nurse in a clinic for, urgh, gynecology. Our lady parts are hardly safe these days." she sighed. "I'm sending everything I've got on him to you right now."

"Great, can you also look up any property in his name, and if he doesn't have any, look for any relatives who own a ranch or barn."

"Comin' right up, I'll get back to you faster than a speedboat."

"Thanks." Reid said breathlessly, and hung up. He tried to block out the screaming still coming from the office phone laying on the table. "JJ, I need everyone back here as soon as possible."

She nodded, and suppressed a smile. She was practically beaming with pride as she took out her phone.

* * *

Pain started to lose it's meaning. It wasn't just pain anymore, the feelings were becoming her - she was melting into the pain and it consumed her completely.

Even though her body was being completely swallowed with writhing, hideous, heated tortures, her mind was lucid. She couldn't keep her thoughts off Spencer. And though she'd never even seen him before, she felt a weird, zealous connection with him. And she kept thinking about the phone in the corner of that horrible room. As the man did things to her nobody else had before, she could only react to the pain.

The pain is what made her scream, but Spencer Reid kept her un-afraid.

* * *

As Spencer mentally sorted out the case details, an annoyingly strong memory began to push through his focused thoughts. In most instances, he would have ignored it 'til it stopped persisting, but this time he gave in.

_He was nineteen. His mother had been there a year now and had finally stopped pleading with him, and succumbed to the medication. The halls of Bennington Sanitarium were always pretty quiet. Most of the time he brought his mom books to read, and told her about college. Sometimes he interacted with other visitors, but not often. He was in the dining room, when a girl with shoulder length, straight dark hair walked in from outside. She wandered around the spacious dining hall, not looking for anyone in particular. It seemed she was merely just killing time. When she walked past the table his mother and him were seated at, he got a whiff of her perfume, which was lilac-scented. She couldn't have been a day over 16. He didn't usually allow himself to get involved with girls, but he caught himself watching her. She moved gracefully, like a ballerina. _

_As the second hour of his visit came to a close, his mother's nurse entered the hall to take her to her arts and crafts class. By this time, lilac-girl was gone._

_As he made his way to the exit, he came around a corner and ran right into her. _

_"I'm sorry, I'm sorry." she said, stooping to help pick up the books and papers she'd caused him to stop. Shyness washed over Spencer and he filled his arms with his books. She seemed to sense this, and stepped out of his way. "Sorry again, have a nice day." she said quietly. _

_He nodded, suddenly conscious of his floppy, unkept hair and gawky legs, crooked glasses. But she smiled at him, and he managed a shy grin back._

He blinked back to present-day, his cell buzzing on the table. Shaking away the memory, he scrambled for the phone.

"Boy-wonder, you are today's winner. Boddingston owns no property other than a leased condo, but his stepfather boards horses on a ranch just outside the city limits. Also, your phone triangulation theory worked, looks like the bounced signals all return back to one central location every 117 times. Why? I don't know, but the phone is located right at that pretty little pony-ranch." she said in a rush of words. "Go get 'em, champ."


	5. Chapter 5

She wondered what he looked like. She imagined FBI Agents were big and brawny, dark sunglasses, ear pieces, flashy badges and guns. She, for some reason, didn't think this is what Spencer would look like. Maybe he would. She had no way of knowing. Maybe she never would.

She pushed away the thought as quickly as it came.

As for the "doctor", it seemed he was trying to stitch up some of the wounds, mostly on her legs. The pain was much more bearable, the only noises she was making was little whimpers. If she really tried, she could even fall silent. Her voice was exhausted from screaming. _She_ was exhausted.

She thought of the cliché 'it was like a nightmare' phrase. She had to disagree in this situation. This was the harshest reality she ever had to face. The adrenaline flowing through her body made all her senses highly acute. She was aware of every ragged breath she took, the beating of her heart, how the dingy lightbulb cast shadows on the gritty walls, the wrinkles on the man's face, the sound of the clattering metal tools together – even the dripping of her own blood. Everything was as though she had turned on high definition.

She wasn't much of a drinker, but she could really use some softened reality just about then.

Suddenly, a pain like she had never experienced, right on her stomach. She pulled against her restraints, her mind went blank now, only animal instinct remained. He was cauterizing the wound across her stomach, melting her broken, raw flesh together with a red hot knife. Her body began to shut down, and she blacked out from the pain.

* * *

Spencer heard this scream clearly. She had been quiet for a while now, quieter at least, only making enough noise to let him know she was still alive. But this scream was a howl, a reckless, futile outcry – almost animal-like in its ferocity. And then silence, dead silence.

He felt his heart in his throat, pressing the phone closer to his ear now. Nothing. _Nothing._ He put the phone on speaker, hoping the increased volume would improve the sound quality.

The rest of the team hurried in as he sat, staring at the phone, with his tightened fists against his head.

JJ hurried over, listening in as well. She swallowed, touching Spencer on the back tentatively. Everyone waited.

Then the man's voice came over the phone. _"Teresa?"_ He begged. _"Teresa, please, I'm begging you, I was trying to help you, Teresa. Why did you leave me?" _his psycho babble continued as Morgan dialed Garcia on the phone.

"Greetings, my sweet Prince of Persia. I've hardly heard from you all day. I miss you."

"Back 'atcha babygirl. I need you to look up someone in relations to Boddingston with the name Teresa."

There was a pause on the other end.

"A woman named Teresa Morales filed for divorce from Carl Boddingston. Court records imply not a pretty trial – he held claims of infidelity against her. She took their only child, a boy who should be about 11 now, and remarried only a month later. This was about 7 years ago. Teresa died on the operating table 2 months ago, and the stepfather is filing for custody."  
"We've got our stressor." Morgan said as he hung up. "Boddingston's ex-wife died under the knife, and he holds a lot of anger against her. My bet is that he was triggered by the wife's death, and is both trying to save her and hurt her at the same time." He said "The stitches and bandages show remorse, but the repeated sexual abuse and torture imply mixed emotions, maybe even sever bi-polar disorder. When he can't save his victims, he gets infuriated and kills them."

"What about the phone?" JJ asked. Derek thought for a moment, but Spencer spoke up.

"He probably has some other, unrelated, vendetta against authority figures, which was triggered by this incident. Maybe he views the police as the same creed of people as the doctors who failed to save his wife." Reid explained. "He is mocking us for not being able to help when we should." His last sentence was heavier with emotion.

"The audio sounds like he's escalating quicker than he thought. We need to go now, I'm not sure how much time we'll have left." He finished.

_"You stupid bitch, you were supposed to love me. But because I'm a disgusting useless monster, you left me. You left me. Wake up!" _Carl said over the phone.

* * *

Spencer's gut was tight with anxiety as the procession of cars rushed towards the ranch. He wanted so badly to get there in time, to make it. He was frustrated with this overwhelming sense of emotions – it wasn't ever supposed to be personal. And it shouldn't have been for him. He scolded himself for having these feelings.

But he did.

He didn't have time to feel guilty. His brain wanted to find a logical reason for the feelings, but his soul wanted just to accept it.

So for once, he did.

In the backseat of the SUV he put on his bullet-proof vest and fiddled nervously with his revolver.

"Spence." JJ said, turning around in the front seat to look at him. "We're going to get there, we'll make it. Relax, but focus."

He appreciated the advice, and loosened his tense shoulders a little bit.

Within ten minutes, they approached the ranch gate and dirt driveway.

The ranch was big, a lot of ground to cover. He realized they hadn't anticipated this, and a dog squad would be another ten minutes. Precious time they just didn't have.

They searched the stables. Nobody was around, only a couple sleepy looking horses, blinking at the team.

"C'mon, Cassidy." Spencer whispered under his breath. "Where is he keeping you?"

Cassidy awoke to the man atop of her again. He was holding a knife, straddled on her, but stitching up a wound on her right arm. He shifted, pressing his knee into the cut on her stomach. And she screamed. The hot, searing pain enveloped her once more – but this time unconsciousness didn't take over. The man just laughed, and pressed harder, listening to her screams.

Morgan heard it first, and then Hotch. Spencer was on the other side of the stables, just outside one of the barn door. Morgan waved him over, opening the stall gate and leading out a large red mare. In the back of the stall there was a wooden trapdoor on the ground, and Spencer could hear the muffled screams coming from behind it.

"Go." Hotch said from behind Morgan and Reid. Reid went to the door, leaning down to open it for Morgan, who pulled out his flashlight along with his gun. Reid mouthed the numbers. "1….2….3"

* * *

**_A/N: Cliffhanger, woot! Update later today, I'm halfway done with the 6th chapter already, I just wanted a break between the two chapters...thank you for reviewing and please tell me what you think! XX- Shiloh_**


	6. Chapter 6

_**A/N: Here it is, not sure if I'm totally done yet, but tell me what you think!**_

The little room filled with light.

Blessed, sweet, sunlight.

There was shouting from above "FBI, put your weapons down now!" The voice was deeper than Spencer's, she noticed. Cassidy was bathed in a feeling of relief so sweet, so welcome, she teared up.

In a flash, the man was off her, moving behind the little cot, at her head, and pressing the still warm knife to her throat. She tried to move away, the echo of the terrible pain of cauterizing coming to her once more.

Morgan dropped down into the room, his gun drawn.

"I'll kill her, you know I will. I've done it before." Boddingston warned. Cassidy squeezed her eyes shut. She heard two more people drop in the room.

Boddingston was crouched down next to her, in the corner behind the makeshift operating table. They didn't have a clear shot.

"She isn't your wife." Spencer said. Her eyes shot open, recognizing the voice. She wanted to look at him, look at her saviors. But her captor held the knife against her neck, and she didn't dare move. But she felt him tense up at the mention of his wife. What were they talking about? "She isn't your wife, you know that, I know a little piece of you still knows that. If you kill her, you won't ever be able to see your son again."

Boddingston froze, and then shook his head. "Do you know what she did to me? Do you know how she wronged me? How she hurt me? And then, when I was finally was ready to forgive her, those moronic doctors took her away from me."

"We want to hear your story, Carl, we want to know what she did. We know she hurt you, tell us."

"You can't help me."

"We can and we will." Morgan said.

"It's going to be okay." Spencer said, but this time, she knew he was talking to her - not that monster. "Put the knife down, stand up slowly."

_He's not going to do it. I'm going to die. _Cassidy thought to herself.

But miracles of miracles, the man stood. She felt the knife move away, and exhaled in relief. Boddingston raised his hands above his head, still holding the knife, and moved away from the corner, going towards the agents.

Out of nowhere, he let out a terrible cry, and his face turned from confused and worried to furious. "_Die bitch!" _he yelled, turning quickly and plunging the knife into Cassidy's stomach, reopening the painful wound.

He didn't get very far with the knife, but it still stuck into her skin. Two shots rang out and he fell to the ground. Cassidy screamed out in horror.

Spencer was frozen in place for half a second, before he rushed to the cot.

"I need a medic!" he shouted over his shoulder. He took out his own knife and began to work on the restraints. He stopped, realizing something. "Cassidy, when I cut you free do not touch the knife, okay? You're going to instinctively react like that, but don't, because it might cause severe blood loss. Just focus on me, the sound of my voice."

She nodded very slightly, her eyes shut from the agony.

"Ok, I know it's the last thing you want to do right now, but I need you to relax, you're safe now, we're going to get you help." He said calmly, quickly.

She managed to peek at him through her lashes, although her vision was slightly blurred from tears. He was looking down, focused on cutting through the multiple zipties around her wrists and arms. He was moving hurriedly, efficiently, but gracefully. His eyes were round and a soft brown, and they were trained on his careful work, and they sparkled with intelligence. His nose was small, and his cheekbones surprisingly defined- his shaggy brunette hair fell to his ears.

Her right side was freed, and instead of reaching for the knife like she wanted to, she grabbed onto the first thing she could – Spencer's sleeve at his shoulder. She squeezed tight, gritting her teeth from the pain.

"It's okay, it's okay" he said, trying to keep her calm. Comforting people was something he wasn't used to, but it was coming to him easily. As he worked, he counted 44 different injuries, everything from burns to bruises to cuts to stitched up, broken slices.

When she was completely free, Spencer took her hand in his, and let her squeeze with all the strength she had left.

"It hurts." She groaned. More tears rushed down her cheeks.

"I know it does, remember to stay focused on me." Before he could stop himself, he carefully brushed away her tears with his free hand. "Just breathe, Cassidy."

"Medics incoming!" a voice said from just outside the trapdoor.

"Stay with me, Spencer?" Cassidy gasped.

Surprised, Spencer nodded quickly. "Yeah, yeah of course. I'm not going anywhere." he said, and smiled just barely, for the first time all day.

* * *

The medics got the knife free, and her entire stomach was wrapped in bandages. This lessened the pain significantly, and they gave her a shot of something to help dull her senses.

They lifted her out of the trapdoor after determining she didn't have any broken bones. She was hesitant to be strapped down again, but having Spencer next to her helped ease her anxiety. Why did she feel this way about a practical stranger? What was it that made her feel so truly connected to him? She bet they had hardly anything in common.

It wasn't awkward at all, not like meeting people at first usually was for Cassidy. But then again, this was pretty unusual circumstances.

The ride to the hospital, Cassidy had asked what was going to happen to the man. Spencer explained, in detail, really specific extensive detail, exactly what would happen to the man.

"And with his financial background, it's doubtful that he'll be able to afford his own attorney, and so the court will assign a public defender to the case. Depending on what district he lived in, the defender will probably have gradua- what?" she was watching him talk, and was clearly bemused. He pinkened slightly, embarrassed. Pissed that he didn't have better people skills.

"No, it's nothing bad." she assured him. "You're just so smart. I've never heard someone talk like you. It's amazing." she managed a smile, despite the pain. "I really love listening to you."

"Well, thanks." he said bashfully, looking at the floor of the ambulance and running his fingers through his hair. Her eyes were beginning to droop, and before she knew it, and before he could even say another word, she fell fast asleep.

Spencer watched her sleeping form, and was in awe of her beauty. Her features blended together so symmetrically and appealingly. Though she had a cut lip, bruises and cuts all over her face, she was still stunning.

They arrived at the hospital, and Spencer followed the paramedics in the back entrance.

It wasn't until a doctor in green medical scrubs appeared next to her as she was woken up, that Spencer heard the sound of her scream once more - a sound that he'd heard way too many times already.


	7. Chapter 7

She hadn't meant to scream. She just opened her eyes, saw a man in the same colored scrubs as her captor, and wearing a face mask.

In reaction to the scream, the doctor reached out for her, and she scrambled away from him, trying to get off the gurney. Spencer rushed over to her, and as soon as she caught sight of him, she froze - realizing where she was. She relaxed, and flinched.

"I'm so sorry." she said quickly to the doctor, and the two paramedics. "It's just, I thought I was back...I thought that you were-"

"No need to explain, Miss Tyler. It's perfectly understandable after all that you've been through."

She touched her stomach and flinched again. Sitting up and moving so fast had really hurt.

Spencer gave her an encouraging smile, and took her hand for a second and squeezed it. She laid back down, grimacing. She was going to be okay.

* * *

_2 days later_

Post-case fallout began, as Cassidy's friends and family were all informed of her safe return. The agents were all debriefed, except for Spencer. He insisted on staying in Colorado a couple more days. He felt like he needed to. There were invisible forces insisting he stay, along with Cassidy. They'd developed a fast friendship, and he'd stayed in the hospital with her as long as he was allowed to.

Turns out her bet was wrong, they had plenty in common. She was smart too, not a genius, but she could keep up with his ramblings about statistics and theories. She was a philosophy major, and wanted to get her teaching credential. She could have listened to him talk for hours, he knew so much and every word he said she genuinely latched onto. He didn't seem to annoy her at all, like he did some people. And he made her laugh. He tried every lame joke he could to get the beautiful noise to bubble out of her.

She had bounced back fairly quickly. Her vitals were back to normal, her wounds were healing well, and though she suffered a great amount of emotional damage, she seemed to be coping.

Though she was a considerably quiet person, she was extremely well-spoken.

She was a gentle soul, with a peaceful presence that radiated to everyone she interacted with.

Spencer was truly happy when he was with her. He couldn't figure out why, and after a long time mulling it over, he accepted it instead of trying to reason with emotions. After all, the spectrum of human emotions was something that couldn't be plugged into a formula - however frustrating that was to Spencer Reid, he began to understand it...somehow.

As for Cassidy, Spencer's constant presence made her feel important, cared for, watched over. He kept her occupied with conversation and laughter, and the entire ordeal of the last week started to fade.

The third day, Spencer arrived at the hospital holding a little box. "So I was just going over your files, and turns out you spent your birthday underground. Why didn't you tell me."

She took a sip of the water she had, and shrugged. "To be honest, I sort of forgot." she had her hair pulled back, which Spencer liked. "I get to go home today." she grinned.

"Good. Here, consider this a 'congratulations on surviving', and also a birthday gift." he said, and she laughed.

She opened the box, and her face cracked into a wide smile.

"You're just fantastic, Dr. Spencer Reid." She lifted the necklace from the box - a long silver chain with a little tiny charm shaped like an old fashioned phone receiver. She giggled and clasped it around her neck. There was a silence in the hospital room.

"I'm going home today too." Spencer said, raising up on his tippy-toes, and then falling back onto his heels - rocking back and fourth over and over.

Her smile fell, and then she laughed in spite of herself. "Of course, yeah. I kind of forgot you didn't live here."

"I can take you home if you want. When are you discharged?"

"In a couple hours. They just want to do some last minute stuff. Bandage changes, blood tests..." she trailed off. "But yeah, that would be nice. My parents flew back to Toronto today anyways, and I didn't wanna bug my coworkers. Thank you for the necklace, by the way."

"No problem." he said, but he said it to his shoes. "I'm, um, going to go grab some coffee. I'll be back."

* * *

He walked down the hallway towards the dining hall. Instead of entering the cafeteria area, he found a chair. He sat in it, putting his face in his hands.

He sat like this for a long while, moving things around inside his head.

He had some decisions to make.

* * *

Cassidy sat in the hospital bed, trying to read. It wasn't going well, her mind was somewhere else.

She didn't want Spencer to go. She wanted to be with him. In every sense of the word. But her mind still struggled to know _why _this was. She wasn't used to this sort of attraction to another person - like she was inherently drawn to him. Instinctively. A gut feeling. A good old fashion hunch.

However she put it in her head, staying with him made sense. Being apart with him didn't.

Suddenly, he appeared in the doorway.

"I've been thinking about some things," he said quickly. "come to some conclusions, and I've made a decision."

In two long strides he was at her bedside. He grabbed her face and pressed his lips against hers. He kissed her carefully, like he was truly savoring the action. He pulled away, and smiled.

"Well, Dr. Reid, what was that decision?" Cassidy asked.

"I'm not leaving without you."

* * *

_**A/N: And that's it! But don't fret, I'll be coming out with Part Two - a story called 'Listen', which I'm starting work on tomorrow. Updates should stay on this story. Thank you all so much for the reviews and wonderful response - it was really really appreciated. Please author-favorite me if you want to read more, and let me know what you thought of the end of 'A Phone Call Away':) Thank you all, again!**_


	8. Part 2 - Chapter 1

**Part 2 - Listen**

**Chapter 1**

* * *

Outside the plane window, fluffy white clouds seemed to move slowly underneath. Cassidy sat with her chin in her hand, a book rested in her lap. It was a non-fiction about the psychology of criminals, but she was busy daydreaming. She'd bought a stack of books for the week she was on bedrest at home. One was by a man named David Rossi, who Spencer told her he worked with.

Cassidy shifted slightly, uncomfortable. She wasn't used to flying - she only did when she absolutely had to. She preferred driving, but she wasn't well enough quite yet. She wasn't sure how Spencer could do it almost twice a week.

She also wasn't sure if he was going to be there when she landed. He was supposed to be through with the case he was working, but it wasn't definite. That was one bad thing about the visit - he wasn't sure if he'd be called in. She hoped it wouldn't happen. He told her over the phone he would do everything he could to spend time with her.

She was absolutely crazy about Spencer. She felt like a little girl again, her mushy butterfly-filled stomach twittered at the thought of him. She was in awe of him - he was so intelligent and talented and interesting. He knew so much, every time she talked to him, she learned something new. She wasn't sure how someone so amazing could like a girl like her. She felt out of her league. But Spencer did anything he could to make her feel important. He listened to her too, and always had something to tell her about whatever she had on her mind.

She felt he was so much more honest than most people, mostly because she figured that being dishonest never really occurred to him. She closed her eyes and thought of him, what their reunion would be like. He was perfect. She couldn't believe he actually picked her.

She opened her phone's photo file and selected the picture of Spencer. She'd snapped it the day he dropped her off. He was a grinning, obviously a little shy, and his hair was falling in his face slightly. She loved the picture and glanced at it often.

"Going to see someone special?" the elderly woman seated next to Cassidy asked her. Cassidy nodded and smiled, and held up the phone for her to see. "My, he's handsome, isn't he? Pretty thin though. My husband was like that too, before I married him, but he bulked up from my cooking. I hope you mean to cook for him, he needs it."

"Probably," Cassidy laughed "He practically lives on coffee. I'm meaning to get some real food into him when I'm there."

"Good, good." the woman looked pleased. "What does he do?"

"He's an FBI agent." Cassidy said, noticing a hint of pride in her own voice.

"Goodness, how brave of him. And he likes what he does, he's good at what he does?"

"Oh, he's good at it." Cassidy gushed, turning to face the woman a little more. "In fact, just two weeks ago, I was walking to work ..."

* * *

_A week earlier_

"So where am I staying when I'm there?" Cassidy asked Spencer over the phone. Spencer looked around his apartment and grimaced.

"I'd let you stay here, but I have a lot of stuff and it's pretty messy."

"Oh, I'm sure it can't be that bad"

"No...no it really is."

"Well alright, it'll probably be better if I stay in a hotel anyways."

"Are you sure about this?" he asked for about the 300th time. She rolled her eyes.

"I'm sure. I really am, and I'm hardly sure about, like, anything at all. So it's a good sign."

"Yeah," he said, and she could hear the smile in his voice. "yeah that is a good sign."

* * *

With her backpack slung over her shoulder, Cassidy walked into the airport gate, glancing around meekly. She turned on her cell and pocketed it. Not seeing Spencer anywhere, she meandered through the airport towards the luggage return. She picked up a cup of coffee at a stall, and leaned against a pillar watching the baggage spin by. She wasn't in much of a hurry, and she was tired, so she lazily let her suitcase spin past her three times before she walked over.

Suddenly, someone knocked into her so hard she nearly fell over, and what was left of her coffee sloshed onto the tile.

"Sorry, Princess." The man who'd slammed into her said in a low voice. Where did he even come from? "Looks like you need to be more careful."

She stooped, picking up her backpack which had fallen, and apologized repeatedly. The man caught her arm as she tripped over her suitcase strap, and she looked up at him with wide eyes. He was in his early 30's, had a 5'oclock shadow, greased back hair, and he leered at her. Once she was stood up straight, he still wouldn't let go of her arm.

"Why's a pretty little thing like you got so many bruises?" the man asked, looking at her forearm where it was still purple in spots.

She shook his arm off, narrowing her eyes.

"Can I help you with something?" she hissed "or do you want to knock into me again?"

"No need to get hostile, lady. Just trying to make conversation. You're a feisty one," he chuckled "what's your name, anyhow?"

"Leave me alone." She said simply, lifting her duffel bag and turning away.

"C'mon, lemme talk to you." The man walked after her and grabbed her arm again, squeezing a wound that hadn't fully healed. This hurt, and she grimaced. Her insides lurched with the first pang of fear. _It was happening again _a voice said in her mind.

"Do you speak English? What did I just say?" she snapped, shaking him away again, her defenses going off. She moved away again, and muttered the word 'creep' under her breath.

She felt a sudden shove at her back, causing her to stumble, almost slipping in the spilt coffee. She caught herself on the pillar, unsure of what to do.

Deciding to be the better person, she hurried away, flipping out her cellphone and glancing at the picture of Spencer. _The world is filled with weirdoes_ she thought as she made her way to the awaiting taxis outside the glass doors. She just wanted to see him, and tried to forget about her bizarre encounter with the man.

As she stepped from the confines of the airport and into the bright, summery day, her phone rang.

"Hello!" she sang into the receiver.

"Hey, I'm at the airport, where are you?" Spencer said. She spun around in a circle, looking for him.

"I was just about to leave, are you inside?"

"Yeah." He said, glancing up at the sign above him. "I'm at gate 26."

"Okay, stay there! I'll come and find you."

She hurried back through the airport, keeping a wary eye out for creepy-man.

Spencer nervously paced back and fourth at the gate, watching other travelers hurry around him. He was so nervous, but excited too.

Someone suddenly tapped him on the shoulder. He spun around, smiling.

Cassidy looked loads better. Her eyes were a bright, clear blue, her face was hardly damaged, she was grinning ear to ear. She wore a bright floral top and jean shorts, and her hair was in a ponytail. He was dressed as eccentrically as he usually was, with a purple collared shirt, sweater vest, and dark pants that were rolled up just a little too much, revealing mismatched socks.

She wrapped her arms around his waist and squeezed before he had a chance to say anything. The smell of her hair overwhelmed him, and he hugged her back.

"I'm so glad you're here." he whispered.

* * *

**A/N: There it is! The first part of the second in my series. Please review what you think, and I hope you enjoyed it. More to come, and soon!**


	9. Part 2 - Chapter 2

_A Week Earlier_

"So, Pretty Boy, what's her name?" Morgan had asked the second that Reid walked back into the bullpen on Thursday morning.

Reid looked down and smiled, shyly.

"Does it have something to do with the pretty girl named Cassidy who's life we just saved?" JJ quipped.

Reid held his hands up in surrender.

"Profiling me isn't fair." Reid pouted.

"You do it to us all the time, Spence." JJ scoffed.

He shrugged and sat at his desk. "Her name is Cassidy, and she'll be visiting in about a week now."

"No kidding, so soon?" JJ asked, one of her eyebrows arched. Morgan looked pleased, smiling giddily from his desk.

"It's about time." He laughed.

"Yeah, I know it's fast, but I don't know what it is. It's something I can't figure out. Like, it just feels right, but I don't know why."

"'Why' doesn't always apply in life. Especially in matters of the heart." Morgan said thoughtfully. JJ looked at him, laughing.

"So very wise, all of a sudden, Derek?" she questioned.

"Hey, y'know, I have had my fair share of relationships, I'm entitled to give him a little advice."  
"What's this I hear? My Prince of the Pythagorean has a wom-aan?" Garcia asked as she walked into the room, toting a clipboard and laptop.

Spencer shot Morgan a look, his brow furrowed.

"It's really early, and I don't kn-" he began, but then Morgan cut him off

"You do know, you're just reluctant to admit it, because it's not how it's supposed to be done, right?"

Spencer was silent.

"It's the gut feeling that makes you so good at what you do."

The three other agents watched the doctor as he tried to work this out in his mind. After a moment he smiled.

"Do you guys want to meet her?"

* * *

_A week later_

He was expecting some teasing, a laugh, or at the very least a raised eyebrow. Instead, she launched herself at one of his stacked, crowded bookshelves, and tugged a copy from a pile.

"You have a first edition Sartre?" she whispered in awe. She flipped open the front cover. "And it's _signed?_" her voice went to a high-pitched hysterical squeal.

"How did you pinpoint that book directly?" Spencer asked.

"Are you kidding me? I could see that book a mile away, in the dark, in the rain. He's my favorite. They only published like 10,000 of these, this is amazing."

"A teacher gave it to me in a college philosophy class. He knew Sarte personally, before he died."

"And Simone de Beauvoir is practically my hero. This is amazing:" she gently replaced the book, and continued looking at his books. "And I know you're worried about the apartment." She commented briskly. "You shouldn't be. It doesn't bother me, really, Spencer."

"I know it's just…I know where everything is."

"It's organized chaos. That's how I was before I had a roommate. My room at home is still as crazy as it always been. I'd kill my sister if she screws it up."

"What's your sister like?"

"She's alright. She was always cooler than I was, even though she's younger, but she had a really bad attitude when she was in her early high school years. She'd get invited to all sorts of parties and had lots of boyfriends. I mean, I'm not saying that's bad, but she just acted like a spoiled brat most of the time. She's graduating in a couple months." She grabbed another book and held it up. "Hawkings? How predictable!" She flipped it open. It was well-worn, highlighted, and dog eared. "How many times have you read this?"

"A few dozen, I don't know."

She looked at him in awe, grinning stupidly. "You're really a genius. Like legitimately. You're incredible."

"My coworkers typically call me irritating."

"No, it's amazing." She said, turning to look at one of the bulletin boards, and then spinning in a full circle, taking it all in. "Despite the lack of light, it's really nice." She motioned to the closed curtains.

"Oh!" he rushed to the window. "Force of habit. My mother never liked the light in, said it disturbed her, and I'm not home too much so I never really bother opening them." The pinkish, orange light of evening filled the room.

The view was nicer than she expected. In the twilight, rosy sunset, the city sparkled and reflected into his apartment.

She fell against the back of his couch and looked out.

"Are you okay?" Spencer asked her. She nodded, tucking a fallen strand of hair behind her ear.

"Yeah, I'm just tired. The flight seemed pretty long."

"You want some tea? I'll make some tea."

* * *

Cassidy fell asleep curled up on Reid's couch. She'd asked him to read to her, but the comforting lull of his voice put her right to sleep.

Reid didn't realize she was slumbering until the light in the apartment completely disappeared, and he had to stand to flick on the the lamp. She was hugging one of the pillows, breathing deeply, completely at peace. Her eyelids flickered from some hidden dream. Reid found a throw blanket folded on the end of the couch, and unraveled it, tucking it around her. She smiled in her sleep, and burrowed underneath the blanket.

Reid grinned at her sleeping form, how content she looked. He took the book he'd been reading aloud, Faulkner, and went to his room to finish it up.

In the early morning, around 3 in the morning, Cassidy was awoken suddenly by a shout. She sat upright, looking around. She realized where she was quickly, and smiled at the blanket wrapped around her. There was another noise, from Spencer's room, a groan.

She scurried towards the doorway, where the door stood ajar, and peeked in. She searched on the wall for a switch, and then the bedroom was flooded with light. She knew what was happening when she saw Spencer thrashing in bed.

She rushed to his bedside, kneeling down beside it. "Spencer?" she whispered.

His eyes were shut tight, and he seemed to be struggling with an invisible force. She reached for his wrists and grasped them, and his entire body tensed. His eyes then shot open, and she saw tears on his face.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to scare you." she said in a panicked voice.

"No it's fine..." he said, slightly bleary eyed. "Just a nightmare." he explained "I get them sometimes."

She ran her fingers through his mussed hair. "What was it about?" she asked.

"I don't know. I can't remember, I never do."

She wrapped her arms around his neck suddenly, hugging him close. After a moment of surprise, he put his arms around her waist and squeezed, breathing in the warm smell of her. So long he'd felt so terribly alone, this touch felt like warm sunshine after two years of rain. He felt a tug in his chest, stronger emotion than he was used to.

"It's okay, you're okay now." she said gently, and then carefully kissed away his tears. She pulled away, readjusting his frumpled clothes.

"You like taking care of people don't you?" he asked after a long moment. She smiled and looked down.

"Yeah, I do. But you took care of me. It's the least I can do." she said "Plus, it looks like you need it."

"You too." His long fingers brushed one of the new scars on her arm, and then her collarbone. "How's your stomach?" he asked. She smiled, looking embarrassed.

"Not very pretty." she lifted her shirt slightly to show him. Stitches still crossed her stomach, the wound was pretty healed, however. Still red and dark, but not bad. "It'll never go away, huh?"

"That's okay." he shrugged.

"I've never been a fan of scars."

He gave her a playful smile, and then grabbed her at her waist, and lifted her over himself and onto the bed next to him.

"You're stronger than you look, Dr. Reid." she laughed.

"Don't worry about that scar." he said, and then leaned down, brushing his lips against her smooth skin right below the scar. "I'm a doctor."


End file.
